Blood Ritual
by Lily268
Summary: Remus is on a mission in a werewolf Den, Tonks tries to deal with being abandoned. RemusTonks, preHBP, dark, slightly AU fic with character death, rated M


**Title**: Blood Ritual  
**Author**: lily268  
**Characters/Pairing**: Remus/Tonks  
**Summary**: Dark slightly AU fic that deals with character death. Experimental new style for me, hope you like it. It switches between their two points of view. I hope you can follow the timeline. Very angsty. Pre-Half Blood Prince.  
**Rating**: R for blood  
**Disclaimers**: These characters belong to J K Rowling  
**Word Count**: 2,000

When blood is spilled on the streets people notice.

They scream, they gather, and they flee all at the same time. Authorities are called to deal with the _problem_ that caused the blood and mothers cover their children's eyes. To protect them. Harry knew about protection. He knew about death. He just didn't know how to properly deal with either. Hearing the screaming didn't help, neither did the people running past, or the hands that clutched at him, making sure he was safe.

During this chaotic scene the blood of the victim silently pooled and flowed to the nearest grate. It slowly dripped down to where no-one notices new blood except to note that it smells fresher. The crimson drops fell into the sewer, cleansing the street of its sin.

Remus watched as his Brother stood with his arms outstretched, chest hair gleaming in the moonlight, neck bent back to allow his upturned face to hungrily lap up the fresh blood that splattered onto his face from the grate above them. Bane was a healthy werewolf. He had embraced his bite and displayed it proudly. It meant that he consequently always had a rip on his left calf to display the jagged scar. Bane had strong muscles and lush fur instead of the sinews and matted bristle Remus exhibited when he transformed. Bane loved to lick up the street's various sins. Remus indulged this practice, although it disgusted him. He's had enough sin in his life without taking on others. This primitive ritual his Brother preformed was tolerated only because he was strong, and Remus needed someone to back him up if his mission ever came to a challenge. With a strong Brother in the Den, he might gain enough followers to stand up against the other Brothers and ultimately, against Father. It was why he volunteered to hunt, to get closer to Brother Bane. Bane was dangerous, he was arrogant and bloodthirsty. But he still remembered enough of humanity to use logic and his pride could be manipulated easily.

Now all Remus needed was…

…a dozen red roses filled a vase on her desk. She numbly checked the card. This had happened before. No reason to get her hopes up. It was, again, mislabelled and she sighed as she plopped onto her worn chair and shooed the vase onto its path to the rightful owner of the flowers. She tore another page off her work calendar.

Today made it exactly two months since he…

…had relaxed, or had a real bath. It had been months and his clothes smelt of urine and his skin felt gritty. The most overpowering sensation was the smell of blood that seemed to permeate everything. It made him nauseous and he would deliberately try to rummage in the worst alleys and bins for food to cover himself with a scent that was anything but blood. But the smell was persistent and was always waiting for him to return. It tried to surround him and fill the hollow in his chest. Remus knew blood could not comfort, so he rejected blood, like he rejected hunting humans. Rabbits, if fresh, could be almost convincing. If his Brothers swallowed fast enough they would never know. Father always ate slowly though, forcing Remus to ask Bane to find someone for him to feed on. Someone with no will left to live; someone already doomed. Then he'd turn his back and ask no questions. He'd try to forget it and cleanse his mind of his part in the killing of another Innocent.

He flinched as the life drained out of another hare and across his hands. He quickly wiped the blood off and wrapped the animal in cloth, trying to preserve as much of its juices as he could. His Brothers hated dry meat.

It was as he was tying up his bundle he heard footsteps and his eyes widened as…

….the blood rushed to her cheeks in a startling blush that had crept from behind her ears. She had just showcased the contents of her bag to some particularly ornery alchemists when she had slipped and fell. She made a mental note to empty all the dirty tissues that had accumulated from secret trips to the loo for a good cry. Her hair had even unconsciously turned a mild auburn after the shock and embarrassment. She scrambled to pick-up her belongings while simultaneously moving towards the elevator. She smashed the button for her floor and cursed once the doors had closed. She fumed again at how one person could control her thoughts so completely. He wasn't even around and he had caused her to fall. Yet she still allowed her thoughts to drift back to his face and to the smile that she had once found so endearing and now found so frustrating. His purpose seemed to be to torment her.

But she was strong and she would survive…

…the mission, although it was getting difficult, but Remus had experienced his share of difficulties before in life. He had had so many new beginnings his name didn't seem to fit anymore since he had used it so often. Perhaps that was why he liked the anonymity of the Den. He belonged in a family underground that shared his troubles, his past and his future. He felt accepted in a way he never had in the streets. Granted, there was one woman who had teased him with words of love. But he chalked up her promises to youthful affection and banished her laugh from his mind. He had work to do, and it seemed the hardest part of his mission would be returning to the streets once he was finished. Back to her world, back to civilization. He wondered if she was happy, if she was safe. He was, after all, doing this to protect the streets and the people who lived on them. He just wanted to protect her, perhaps worship from afar. He knew that those that lived underneath did not love. They were cursed and permitted only to watch life pass them by. He believed he did not have the right to lead a perfect life with her since he carried so many sins and had lived a life with so many hardships. He did not know that he had added a fresh sin when he accepted the assignment, a sin that held more weight than any of the others. He had loved her and left her side because he was fated to feel out of place in any civilization. He was an outcast above and below ground. So he abandoned the one society that he was welcomed unconditionally to and he knew she must hate him for that. What he hoped was that she also still loved him.

But he had no way of knowing that…

….her lace had broken. She didn't wear fancy shoes, they were too difficult, but Tonks was having trouble with a simple mending charm. She sat down on the doorstep of a shop in the alley and tried tying her shoe the Muggle way. It had been years since she had bent down and gripped the laces, but she remembered where to pull accurately enough. Unfortunately, the lace was too short, despite her efforts.

All her life she had meticulously tied up every hurt and grievance into a neat little ball. She was then able to push back all the threads of stress, anger and loneliness with one thrust. Lately, Fate seemed determined to untie her bundle of depression and let all the strings fly loose to tangle up her life. With this latest tug she let the filaments fall apart around her, showering her with memories and emotions. She couldn't focus on any in particular but this did nothing to dull the grief. She felt them all simultaneously and she needed to relieve the pressure. She looked down at her wet sleeve to find that her body was already trying to do so and she threw herself wholeheartedly into her weeping. She let the tears fall unfettered onto her cloak and she soon curled up into a ball, weak and whimpering as the tears dried up but her body was still shaking with sobs. She let all her worries and cares wash away as she emptied her mind of all her memories and gave up. She felt so defeated and lay there in the alley for a new release. She waited for the strength to leave her body when she heard light footsteps and a gruff voice. She turned her tear-stained cheeks to look up at the owner of the hand on her shoulder.

She was surprised to see…

….the happiness on their faces as he gave them their meal for the night. They greedily tore into the flesh with a savageness Remus had not seen in all his time at the Den. He was not disgusted this time. He wanted something to fill the expanse in his chest and deluded himself to believe it was hunger. He ravaged the meat that had been dropped near his feet.

He bit into it with a...

... fiery sting that seared her flesh but subsided quickly. He had then left her alone to feel the warmth leave her body through the gash he had made as her blood spilled onto the street. She wondered if Remus was cold where he was stoically completing his mission and hoped for the first time that he succeeded.

It would be quick; the strange, hairy man had told her in that voice that seemed to smoothen over time, leaving her craving warm honey by the end of their conversation. His words were enchanting and full of promise. He eyes infused with vitality. He offered her his coat and told her of a way to end her sorrow. As she stared with blank eyes at his face she knew she didn't have the strength to fight anymore. She gave the slightest nod and then closed her eyes to the world. Now she lay cold in the street, waiting to remember what hope felt like. It had been so long since she had experienced hope.

The crowd that had gathered around her body grew solemn after a few moments realisation had crept into them. She would never again feel pity or envy or happiness. She would never again laugh. It was an escape from her agony, but it had stolen her future from her. Harry had been in the alley that day and had come running when he had heard the screams. He didn't recognise her at first, with the blood soaking her clothes and the peaceful expression on her face. He stood transfixed, letting it wash over him. He was disgusted with the person who did this.

Harry let his disgust lead him…

….back to the street-grate. Remus knew Bane was due back and it was his eyes that Remus met in the dark. They shared an understanding. Blood had been spilled tonight and they were to both share in the shame and the glory. They had a routine that was strictly followed: Remus never saw their faces and he allowed Bane to perform his blood ritual. Remus had no way of knowing that this blood, that was now trickling down Bane's forehead onto his mouth was denying him a goodbye. That this blood was shed out of desperation. That it was filled with unrequited love. He did sense that it was familiar; it was even sweet to his nostrils, in a sickly way. It clung to his body in an effort to be close to him but Remus denied it with a dismissive sniff. They had work to do; Bane had to retrieve the body for Father before more of the street came. The Innocent needed to be collected before too much blood was lost. There wasn't much time. As Remus left the grate and the small puddle of blood that had accumulated, the hollow in his chest grew, as it dawned on him that for someone, there was no more time.

A/N: This is one of the first fanfics I've ever written and I've always had a soft spot for it. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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